Took 8 of my students to Camp GLOW in Tsetsebjwe on the Tuli Block adjacent to the South African border. The bugs were insane. The showers smelled pretty terrible due to their proximity to the pit latrines. I don’t think saying they smelled like death does their pungency justice. But the kids had fun, and that made it all worth it.

We (the volunteers) decided to put together a dance number for the talent show. Our song of choice: Single Ladies by Beyoncé. We redefined awesome that night. The booty slap became very popular with the kids, an unintended consequence of our performance. To this day, my GLOW students like to end every meeting with a Single Ladies’ booty slap.

Another highlight was the campfire, during which each delegation performed a traditional song and dance from their home villages. Jill and I performed a charming little Setswana love song I wrote. Lyrics will come in a future blog update.

FRANCISTOWN/SOWA (THE “N-EAST”)

Passed through Francistown on the way up north. Stayed with my old friend, Mike. Spent a couple nights in Sowa with Erica and Jill. Single Ladies – Part II was well received.

THE OKAVANGO DELTA

Had Language Week with John, Paul and Tori at Allison’s place in Etsha 6. My God was it hot. It was great to be reunited with my bro (John), though the reunion did stir up some competition; jealous of our camaraderie, Allison and Tori decided to become “bras.” It must, however, be noted that whereas our “brohood” was established on the bond of friendship, their “brahood” was clearly reactionary.

We spent Christmas Eve on the hot and humid Okavango Delta at Heidi’s place in Shakawe. My God was it hot. The rivalry between the bros and the bras continued on throughout Christmas day. Though the bras’ attempts to outshine the bros were positively precious, the bros were the undeniable victors. Brohood can’t be learned overnight, after all. Nor can brahood.

Spent a couple nights in Maun with John at Roberta’s (or, as we call her place, “The Berta’s). Ran into some volunteers at the Old Bridge, a lodge at the riverbank with a good crowd and lively atmosphere. By a stroke of good fortune, met a nice German couple who were heading to Namibia first thing in the morning. It was decided that I would join them.

WINDHOEK/SWAKOPMUND (NAMIBIA)

Left that morning for Windhoek with Lina and Jan of Cologne. They were planning on spending New Year’s in Namibia, though they would ultimately return to Capetown, South Africa where they are studying law. The other happy beneficiaries of their kindness were Danielle and Julia, two Peace Corps volunteers who had just completed their service in northern Namibia. Having begun their well-deserved travels in Zimbabwe and Botswana, they were on their way to spend New Year’s in South Africa via Windhoek. They are at this moment on the beautiful island of Zanzibar off the East African coast, for which reason, I hate them. The four of them made such lovely company, that it seemed silly to alight in Ghanzi as I had originally intended (the plan had been for my friends who had rented cars from Gaborone to pick me up at the junction to Charleshill just south of Ghanzi). I, instead, rode with them all the way to Windhoek, where we spent the night.

That morning, I headed down to the city centre where I killed time at a café, walked around a bit, and bought a hat. My friends finally caught up with me, having spent the night in Gobabis, a town 2 hours east of Windhoek. We departed Windhoek around 10 and arrived at our final destination, Swakopmund, in the late afternoon, where I had my first glimpse of the ocean in over half a year. It was breathtaking.

The following day was spent looking for a man bag (a murse, if you will). Found one, sold to me by a beautiful Namibian girl by the name of Sharon, who, as you will learn, is my great disappointment of 2009. It was a charming affair really. We shared a few laughs, engaged in some witty banter, and ultimately exchanged numbers. She asked what I was doing that night (it was, after all, New Year’s Eve). I informed her I was having a braai (an Afrikaans word meaning barbeque) that evening with some friends, but that afterwards, anything was game, Why, do you have any suggestions? She replied, You should come to the beach; there’s a big party at Tiger Reef. I responded rather coolly, Maybe I will.

That evening we had the braai. Fast forward to two hours before midnight:

My friends and I arrived at the beach bar, Tiger Reef, which was absolutely packed with people. Sharon texted me, and long story short, we tried to find each other and failed. Sad, right? Yes. It was.

In retrospect, maybe she was just trying to sell me a bag, maybe I should have invited her to the braai, maybe I shouldn’t have tried to be too cool for school, maybe, maybe, maybe…

But, although I wish things could have gone differently, I’m not altogether disappointed. It was a fun experience to be back in the game (having conclusively ended my most serious relationship ever a mere few months before). My first half a year in Botswana was overwhelming, to say the least, during which I was stretched to my limits, emotionally, intellectually, and otherwise. That brief two-hour period before midnight, despite its admittedly disappointing outcome, was invigorating. I don’t know if I can articulate why, but maybe it’s enough to say, it made me feel strong, unafraid, and quite simply alive.

So alive, in fact, that the next week was spent sky diving, sand boarding, quad biking, speaking in German and Afrikaans, eating seafood including crustaceans (to which I had, for the past couple years , had an aversion), drinking good wine and beer, and basically being the classic world traveler. For some reason, Swakopmund loved me, and I absolutely loved Swakopmund.